Somewhere Nowhere Club Novels & Stories

“He's checking some things out at the club.” “Club?” I asked with a frown. “Yes,” Nicola said. “One of Alessandro's power plants is in a club.” “What's the name of the club?” I asked calmly. “Luna Nera,” Nicola said confidently. “It's one of the biggest, most famous, and most successful clubs in Europe.” “They feature European artists,” Loreta said. “So that keeps the anticipation going.” I nodded and got curious. Nicola finished her coffee, picked up a few things, and left.

Nolan’s POV The bass thumped through my chest like a second heartbeat, vibrating the sticky floor of the club and rattling the half-empty glass in my hand. Neon lights sliced through the haze of smoke and sweat, casting everyone in jagged, unnatural hues—purples and blues that made faces look like masks, hiding whatever bullshit they were running from. I leaned against the bar, the wood slick under my elbows from spilled drinks, the air thick with the sharp tang of liquor, cheap perfume, and bodies grinding too close. It was the kind of place where people came to forget, to drown in noise and numbness, and tonight, that's exactly what I needed. Clara's ghost clung to me like a bad habit, her

I didn't recognize the song, but it had a beat that wouldn't quit! The club sat at the edge of our city, surrounded by a spectacular view. The exclusive nightspot tucked away in this private part of town is owned by someone Copeland knew that is famous. It dished out music that drew the tourist who wanted to socialize, enjoy the upbeat sounds and dance the night away. Whirling strobe lights provide me with fractured glimpses of Copeland, who I was guiding into the gyrating crowd.

THE CLUB POV: Nikolai Scott's club was called Meridian. It did not advertise. It did not have a sign outside, just a black door on a narrow street in the oldest part of Sky Shade City with a brass handle worn smooth from decades of the right hands pulling it. The kind of place that existed in the negative space of the city's social life. Everyone who needed to know about it knew. Everyone else walked past it every day without seeing it.

Chelsea shook her head and refused to be left in the dark. “And where is this far away from my home place?” June drove for a few minutes more before pulling over. “We are already here.” As they read the inscriptions, Chelsea was shocked, “A club?” Iris had closed her eyes. She was not sleeping but just in deep thought. Hearing club, she opened her eyes. “Club 112. I think it's perfect,” she said and alighted from the car. June realized the flaw in her plan that their outfits were sexy though but still too decent for a place like the club. It was too late to do anything about it.

Ivy asked. "Asap, bish. If you can make it tonight before the spot gets taken, I'll send you the address. It's Klub Rush." "Yes, I'll be on my way." Ivy gets to the club downtown, and this wasn't what she was expecting. The decor was on another dimension. The use of artworks and paintings in the passageway that leads to one of the biggest clubs in New York—not that Ivy knows of any club in New York—was huge. The mixture of red and blue lights gave it a very enigmatic feeling of seduction.

Julian had dragged him along to a club despite his protests and ever since they'd gotten there, he'd sat himself in one of the small corners and just watched everyone party away. Clubbing was not, and had never been, his scene. He always thought that the places were too full of horny teenagers and perverted drunks, but this one wasn't so bad. It was some place located in downtown New York, and the name; Club Skunk, wasn't exactly the type of name you'd think of when thinking of somewhere pleasant. Unfortunately, with Julian he'd been left with little choice but to tag along.

She never accepted the rejection, like a little bitch, and now Ghost and me are reaping the consequences. Club Infinity is an exclusive club I own. The club is located only a short distance from the pack, in the middle of the nearest human city. At first, I considered creating the club strictly for supernaturals, a place where we can be ourselves, without having to worry about the humans. Then, I realized I could make something the humans would die to go to. And our pack is located on the outskirts of a college town with a military base. We are always having human military and college students attend and it brings in a shit ton of revenue. So, instead of an all-supernatural bar, I opted for

Where do you go when you're at your lowest? When you have no one by your side? Or maybe when you've just run away from your own wedding? For me, the answer was simple. The only place that made sense—the one spot where you could drown your sorrows in alcohol, cry your heart out, and let the music blast away the thoughts clawing at your mind. A club. Not just any club, mind you—one of the most exclusive in New York, owned by none other than the infamous and dangerous business man, Alaric Voss.

By the time I realized where I was going, I was already there. The club sat behind an unmarked entrance on a street that looked expensive enough to disapprove of itself. No line outside. No sign. The sort of place that didn’t need advertisement because the right people already knew. Music leaked faintly when the door opened for someone leaving, then vanished again. My phone rang just as I parked. Salvatore. “She’s on board.” I didn’t answer. I ended the call and got out of the car. Inside, the club breathed in waves. Music heavy enough to sit in the chest. People arranged carefully around banquettes and shadowed corners, trying to look accidental and failing. Waiters moved fast. Money moved